


Heat

by Ditto_Nymph



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), F/M, Knotting, Mama's first smut lol jk, Mama's like second or third smut don't judge okay????, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sponsored by the Knottingham Palace, kind of rough?, like biting, little blood play, not actual blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ditto_Nymph/pseuds/Ditto_Nymph
Summary: You, the reader, work at a bar (totally original) and meet 'mysterious' alpha scientist W.D. Gaster who never uses his first name, because it's embarrassing okay???? Too bad he smells so delicious that it spurs a sudden heat that breaks through your suppressants... Might wanna call the doctor later about that.Gaster and Skeleton crew are BROTHERS because I STAN THAT.
Relationships: W. D. Gaster/Original Female Character(s), W. D. Gaster/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 251





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this, I know. You're welcome :*

Alpha, _Alpha, **Alpha.**_

That’s what your mind has on repeat the moment you leave the bathroom and return to your post behind the bar. The rest of your body runs on autopilot, serving drinks as they’re requested, sometimes adding a little flair in your pour if you have the time. But your mind is stuck on that scent, even as it’s gone within minutes, filtered out by customers coming and going, but it’s stuck in your nose and god does it smell _good!_

“Did you catch a whiff of him?” You ask your co-worker, Chelsea, almost desperately when there’s a lull.

She rolls her eyes at you, “Yeah, he smelled okay. A little better than most.”

_Okay. A little better than most._ And said with the most uncaring attitude that is not reflective of your reaction to this mouthwatering scent at all. You’re actually a little jealous of Chelsea, being a Beta, she doesn’t have to worry about going crazy about someone else’s scent or being stuck in a restrictive box of stereotypes. Betas are the happy neutral between ‘aggressive, rage-filled knot-head’ and ‘meek, wanton cum-bucket’. Not that most Omegas were prostitutes or worked in brothels, or that Alphas liked to start fights over things, and people, that they ‘claimed’. That’s just how the media really liked to spin stories, because it made things interesting. But these days, Secondary Genders weren’t as much of an issue as they once were.

You look around at the patrons, chatting idly, sipping on their beverages, mostly alcohol. Most of them seemed unbothered by the scent, but you caught a few interested glances towards the door. And a few glares. 

“So was he a human or a monster?” You lean in close enough to rest your shoulder on hers.

It was an important question, really. While monsters have come to be widely accepted over the years since their ambassador freed them from the underground some ten years ago, there was always someone spouting something hateful and racist about them. 

You didn’t really care, but the more information you had about your Alpha, the easier it would be to hunt him down.

You had to pause for a moment and take a deep breath of bar-air. He was not your Alpha, this random stranger… Yet. 

“Monster as far as I could tell. He kinda just glared in the doorway looking like he’d rather be anywhere else until Sans left with him.” Chelsea shrugged and then left you to tend to one of her regulars.

Sans was also a regular, technically yours since you served him more often than the others. He was a Skeleton Monster, short, lazy, and smelled like a Beta most of the time. But sometimes… when he was angry, there was an undeniable scent of an Alpha, lingering just underneath the surface.

Sometimes Sans scared you, but he was mostly harmless. Mostly. 

You gave a mournful sigh, putting the idea of hunting down your Alpha away while you focused on a new group of customers that waltzed in. They were rowdy, celebrating something apparently, but they were fun and distracted you until your shift was over. And they tipped well. 

“Shit, how much did they leave you?” Chelsea hisses as you both work to clean the bar once the last patron has left. 

“A _crisp_ hundred-dollar bill.” You wave the note at her with a teasing smile before putting it back into your pocket. 

“Lucky,” Chelsea grumbles, wiping down the last table.

“Hey, if you can give me _anything_ else about that Alpha, I’ll treat you to a fancy dinner.” You wiggle you eye-brows suggestively when Chelsea looks your way with interest. 

She purses her lips, glaring over your shoulder in a familiar look of thought. 

“He was either wearing some strange make-up or he had cracks in his skull, on one either side of his face.” Chelsea points her fingers, one above her right eye and the other below her left.

“So he was a Skeleton!” You snap your fingers, mind working on how he could be related to Sans, and whether you could get any information out of him. 

“Maybe?” Chelsea’s expression is filled with doubt, “He was wearing this white, turtle-neck sweater underneath a trench coat or something and black pants. He was even wearing gloves! There wasn’t much besides his head to see.” 

You let out a sigh through your nose, eyes wandering to the locked entrance of the bar. 

“That’s all I have. You free this Saturday? LaCroix’s?” You groan at Chelsea’s request, knowing that your tip will cover her meal, but not both.

“Yeah, I’m free.” 

That night, you dream of your Alpha, the heavy scent of what _must_ be the o-zone layer and… space, the void, nothing and yet everything with just a hint of something warm. Something earthy, something you couldn’t quite place, but you loved it. 

You dreamt of murmured words, too softly spoken to catch, and warm hands that roamed all over. You dreamt of teeth sinking into your neck, marking you. Bonding you. Your mind supplied that euphoric rush you’d imagined it would be like. Just like how the books and movies described it; eye-opening, like a breath of fresh air, and you could just _feel everything_.

You woke up to your own fingers furiously thrusting into your dripping wet cunt, toes curling in anticipation of an orgasm, heel of your palm rubbing firmly against your clit until you came with a stilted gasp, back lightly arched because it wasn’t the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it was better than most. You laid there, panting on the bed, frustrated that there was no Alpha to cuddle up to, that there was no bond-mark on your neck tying you on a literally spiritual level to your Alpha. 

There was nothing. 

LaCroix’s was just as uppity and snobbish as you’d been led to believe. It had a fucking dress-code which absolutely banned jeans, t-shirts, sneakers and anything else remotely comfortable. So you donned your old heels that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, bought a fresh new set of sheer, black tights and a new sweater-dress because you’d read the reviews and many of them recommended wearing something warm. You even spent two hours carefully following a tutorial on youtube for a make-up look that would match your outfit and look good in the low-lighting.

When you picked up Chelsea, she hadn’t noticed, but that was fine, because you were sitting down in the car so she probably wasn’t even paying attention. You got that look of shock and awe you were hoping for once you both got out of the car and handed the keys over to the Valet (there was no other parking available). Chelsea had a proper blush dusting her cheeks and she playfully fanned herself with a wink at your outfit. 

“For me, Cherie?” She asks, her voice dropping down to seductive whisper.

“No. For food, now shut up my feet are already killing me.” You gripe, frown deepening when Chelsea barks out a rude laugh at your expense. 

Your grumpy façade slips into a pleased smile as your act crumbles into giggles. Chelsea gives you another appreciative look before offering her arm to you. You roll your eyes and slip your arm around hers as you enter the expensive restaurant.

The waiter is a soft-spoken fire-elemental with a pleasant green flame. He makes no assumptions about you or your ‘date’, merely offering suggestions on what dishes were popular and his own favorites. He even suggests a good wine that would pair with both of your meals. 

“This place is so nice,” Chelsea leans forward a little, keeping her voice soft like the waiter’s was to match the quiet atmosphere. 

“It really is,” You agree, flipping through the menu casually, “Pick whatever you want, their special sounds really good.”

Chelsea hums in agreement and a comfortable silence falls between the two of you as you take your time looking over the menu. 

“Ready to order?” The waiter, Carmen, returns just as you and Chelsea have decided on your meals. 

“I’ll have the special with a garden salad on the side and French dressing to go with it.” Chelsea orders with a pleasant smile, “We’d also like to order dessert for later.”

Carmen gives a patient nod as he jots down her order, “May I recommend the Berry Compote with Lemon Syllabub?”

Chelsea’s eyes widen with wonder and you can practically see her salivate with want, “Yes, two please. One for both of us. And she’ll have the Calabrese Broccoli.” 

You were practically salivating at the thought of the dish. Fresh sea scallops and shrimp sautéed with olive oil, garlic, butter and white wine with a blend of fresh baby spinach, broccoli and mushrooms served over linguine? Yes please.

You didn’t even mind that Chelsea ordered for you, or that Carmen expected it, or that the restaurant itself went by old rules where an Omega _never_ ordered for themselves. Even though you really _did_ mind it, but Chelsea had been talking about trying the food here ever since you started working at The Bar four years ago.

The food better be as good as you were hoping.

The food was _heavenly_. Cooked to perfection and so flavorful that you had to take a moment and remind yourself that you’d probably never eat this well again. So you ate slowly, savoring your meal as Chelsea practically inhaled hers. 

“God, that was amazing!” Chelsea exclaims as quietly as she can manage. She’s still licking her spoon, hoping for another taste of her dessert.

You’re still working on yours, graciously letting Chelsea steal a scoop or two when that _scent_ tickles your nose. It doesn’t hit you like a train this time, but it still makes you pause, your head moving to face the source and you see _him_. 

He’s a tall man -monster- with sharp eyes taking in the restaurant with a hint of distaste that makes you wonder just how high his standards are. His head is mostly skeletal, with the cracks that Chelsea had spoken of; one running over his scalp and into his right eye and the other connecting his left eye with the left side of his mouth. His eyes themselves are the typical sockets you would expect on a skeleton, but they’re pitch black, absorbing all the light that hits them, with only two small pinpricks of light for his eyes.

He’s accompanied by two other monsters, both familiar in different ways. One is Sans, the short skeleton looking odd in a fitting tuxedo and well-shined shoes. There’s even a light blue blush on his cheeks. The other is another tall skeleton, one that you’ve heard Sans gush about time and time again; his younger brother Papyrus. You’re honestly shocked when even he is shorter than the monster whose head surprisingly doesn’t reach the ceiling. 

It takes you a moment before you realize who the owner of the magnificent, mouthwatering scent is.  
It’s the god. _Damned. **Royal. Scientist. Dr. Gaster.**_

Or rather, the Former Royal Scientist who was now just a normal scientist, probably. 

The media stopped buzzing around him when he kept dismantling any cameras they pointed at him. With _magic_. Specifically, disembodied hands as far as the story went. There was also rumors of a giant dog-like skull that he threatened to shoot them with, but that was never confirmed.

Chelsea pinches your arm and you realize, with suddenly heated cheeks, that you’re staring for much longer than is considering polite. Your head whips around to face her and you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing like a teenager. You raise your eyebrows as high as they would go and you feel your eyes drying from how wide you’re keeping them.

“It’s him!” You chirp quickly and quietly, so quietly that you could barely hear your own voice. 

“Mhmm.” Chelsea nods with a polite smile, her eyebrows raising once and then again as her eyes dart behind you and then back. 

You quickly school your expression into one of polite neutrality and focus intensely on your dessert as the Maître De leads the good doctor and his- family? You can’t help but wonder. You hold your breath as they pass, because it just wouldn’t do to jump the former Royal Scientist in such a… refined place, but then Sans, that damned _pun-slinging bastard_ , just has to turn around and-

“Hey!” He calls your name and your eyes dart up, and you can’t help but glare at him because _how dare he test your very poor control?!_

Of course, Dr. Gaster and Papyrus stop as well, Papyrus looking displeased with Sans’s sudden stop, but then a smile lights his face like you wouldn’t believe and he seems so _excited_ to meet someone his brother knows. Dr. Gaster raises a cool brow, still looking displeased, but then there’s a glint in his eyes and he’s staring at you in a way that makes you feel… like you’re being hunted.

Fuck is that hot.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see your ugly mug here.” He flashes you a cheesy smile that makes you roll your eyes, “Hey, Chelse.” 

“Hey, Sans. We’re just enjoying a nice night out.” Chelsea gives him her ‘customer service’ smile that’s just a little _too_ sweet and honestly makes you worried every time she uses it. 

Sans seems to sense the imminent danger from interrupting your dinner as he holds his hands up in a defensive maneuver, “Yeah, I hope you enjoy it. The food here is pretty good-“

“It was fantastic!” You can’t help the satisfied sigh nor the response because that food was too good not to boast about. 

Sans chuckles at that, and then Papyrus steps forward. The Maître De waits patiently beside Dr. Gaster, but you can tell he’s not happy and that you’ll probably never come back here again. Chelsea lets out a patient sigh, and purposefully shoves a spoonful of your remaining dessert into her mouth.

“OH! Sans, are you friends with these ladies?” Papyrus’s voice is just as loud and boisterous as Sans had told you and Dr. Gaster clears his throat, “Oh, sorry…” His voice is considerably lower, but you can tell he’s straining himself. 

“Ah, yeah.” Sans rubs the back of his skull awkwardly and introduces you and Chelsea to Papyrus and Dr. Gaster, “And this is my brother Papyrus, coolest guy in town,” He winks, “And that’s our older brother Gaster. Biggest nerd around.” 

Dr. Gaster rolls his eyes in disgust while Papyrus poses proudly, “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you the both of you. Now, Sans, let the Beta and her Omega finish their dinner in peace.” 

The first thing you notice is his voice; low, dark and gravely, but… oddly wavering. Not out of anxiety or nervousness, but as though it’s coming out of a poorly tuned radio. And yet it’s strikingly clear to your ears. 

You then notice how he called you Chelsea’s Beta… And that he referred to you both as your second genders rather than your names and now you can’t even enjoy the sound of his voice. It’s incredibly rude to call someone by their second gender if they weren’t family or you weren’t intimate with them. And he acted as though you weren’t really even there! 

“I’m not her Omega.” The statement comes out a little louder than you meant, but the irritation is something you _want_ him to hear, his godly scent be _damned!_

You’re not about to be looked down on for something completely out of your control! And you aren’t going to let some snobby, stick-up-his-ass-Alpha-knot-head be rude to your friend! Even if she does spend all of your tip money on outrageously priced food.

“And we have names, so if you’d be kind enough to use them or not refer to us at all, that would be greatly appreciated.” You ground out, much to the shock of the other dinners. 

You do not have the pleasant ‘customer service’ persona down like Chelsea does and you can see her cover her face with one hand. You feel bad for embarrassing her, but still! You can’t stand it when people treat you like you’re nothing.

Dr. Gaster, for his part, merely looks at you as though he’s studying you. Eyes narrowing further, mouth drawn in a thin line. You meet his gaze with a glare, lifting your chin and daring him to say anything insulting. 

You can feel the gaze of the other diners around you, the air growing tense during your standoff. Sans and Papyrus look exasperated and embarrassed. The Maître De has something of a smirk they’re desperately trying to keep at bay, but their mouth is twitching in a way that gives them away. Clearly, they live for this kind of drama. 

“Very well. You have my apologies.” He bows in a move that’s clearly shocking not only to you, but to his brothers as well and after he’s raised himself he gives you an amused look and says your name in a very deliberate way that has your cheeks lighting back up. 

“Chelsea,” He gives her a brief, but respectful bow.

And then he turns and follows the Maître De to his table and you barely register Sans’s reply or Chelsea reassurance that everything is fine because your blood is rushing in your ears and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest. 

What the _Fuuuuuuck_.

“What the fuck was that?!” You screech hysterically once your safe in your car, driving to Chelsea’s apartment block.

“I don’t know!” Chelsea screeches back, equally confused and disturbed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was the _Royal Scientist?!_ ” You demand. 

“I didn’t know?! The lighting was too dark! I don’t follow that shit! I thought the Royal Scientist was some lizard-dragon lady!” Chelsea shouts her excuses, but you have a hard time accepting them. 

“She is the Royal Scientist, but that asshole was it before her!” You explain, your voice lowering from a shout. 

The silence that follows is a little more tense than you’d like, but Chelsea breaks it easily, “So is he still your Alpha?” The question is cheeky and you don’t need to look at her to see the teasing look she’s shooting you. 

“No!” You snap, pause, and then grumble, “Maybe… Shut up! He’s still a major douche-nozzle.” 

“Boy, you _sure_ know how to pick em, don’t you?” Chelsea coos.

You shoot a glare her way for that, “Shut up! It’s not me, dammit! It’s biology…” You pout, unable to stop yourself from slumping in your seat at a red light. 

“Uh-huh. Says the twenty-nine-year-old-un-mated Omega.” Chelsea snarks. 

“There are dozens of us!” You snark back, “Dozens!” 

Though, it was true that an un-mated Omega your age was a rare sight, even in such a progressive age. But you didn’t want to be like other Omegas! You wanted to be strong and independent! You didn’t want to rely on someone else or pump a baby out every year. Or be treated like a lesser person. 

And yes, you _have_ met very nice people and monsters, even dated some! But there was always something missing, something you could never quite put your finger on. No matter how well you clicked with another person or how many things you had in common, you were always giving them an apologetic smile and breaking things off. Your longest relationship lasted a shocking two years, and you would swear up and down that it was the best relationship you had! The other person was an Omega as well, wanting to try something new and exciting and their desire to experiment was contagious. Hell, you’d even stopped taking suppressants just to enjoy your heats together. But then they had grown tired and so had you, and you both ended the relationship on amicable terms. 

You still kept in touch with them, on occasion. 

And here you were… Still single for the last year now. Still searching for that _something_ that was missing. You give a longing sigh as the light turns green and the mood in the car drops just a little. Chelsea turns on the radio to give the mood a little boost and one of your favorite songs comes on so you both belt out the lyrics at the top of your lungs, and you continue your impromptu karaoke until you reach Chelsea’s apartment block. 

“Text me when you’re home and safe!” She calls to you as she skips up to her building. 

The next few days were rather… Boring, dismal, dull, tedious, you could go on and on, but Chelsea snapped at you when your list of synonyms grew a little too long. And then she took your phone away when you tried to look up more. The only thing of interest was Sans, who filled you in on how is brothers felt about you, not that you cared. Well you did care of Papyrus’s opinion, Sans practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

“Paps thinks you’re pretty cool for standing up for you and Chelsea like that,” He tells you around a bottle of ketchup. 

You still aren’t sure if he’s getting inebriated by it or if he just _really_ enjoys the taste. 

“Well, since you talk him up so much I figured I would have to impress someone as cool as that.” You reply easily as you mix tonight’s house special for another customer, “And that sounds like high-praise coming from him.”

“Yeah, he was pretty impressed with you. He’s one of those guys who isn’t really into all the stereotypes, so he always likes it when people break out of their boxes.” Sans gushes. 

“Well it’s nice to know that at least _one_ of your brothers isn’t a fucking tool.” You grumble as you flip the shaker over your back and catch it without looking.

That’s your best trick and you’re so fucking proud of it. The customer who’s patiently waiting for their beverage claps excitedly and you flash them an appreciative smile and pour out their drink into a chilled glass and slide it over. They give you a nice tip in return before departing the bar to find their company at one of the small tables lining the wall.

“Yeah…” Sans scratches the back of his head as a bead of sweat dots his forehead.

You stare at it for a moment in bewilderment before reminding yourself about magic. 

“G isn’t really that great at socializing, not that he wasn’t before the accident either, but he certainly hasn’t gotten any better.” Sans gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“The Core’s meltdown, right?” You ask, referring to the accident and Sans gives an easy nod. 

The monsters didn’t really give much information in regards to the Core, just that it was a source of energy that had been greatly unstable at one point. They had admitted to a meltdown that occurred during the Royal Scientist’s, Dr. Gaster’s, shift that had left him and others severely injured and forced him to step down from the role, handing it over to his assistant Dr. Alphys. 

You’re distracted then by other customer’s as the evening rush floods into the bar just as Natalie clocks in to save the day. Natalie is the bar’s owner and usually only shows up to help cover rush hours or count the till at the end of the week and take care of bills. She doesn’t even keep any of the tips, instead depositing them into a jar and telling whoever was working to split it at the end of the night. 

Sans stays through the rush and you make sure to switch out his empty ketchup bottles when you get the chance. Natalie stays a bit after the rush to make sure you and Chelsea are alright and then chats a bit with Sans, discussing a change in ketchup brands to cut costs and then departs for the evening. 

Just as you feel a tickle in the back of your throat, Sans speaks up again, “You know… G had a rather… interesting opinion of you.” 

That piques your interest, not that you would admit it… Still, “Oh?” You raise a brow and try to be as nonchalant as possible. 

“Yeah, said that he couldn’t help but wonder if you were really an omega.” You scoff at that, lips pressing together in a tight frown that twists in anger at one end. 

“That asshole _would_ say something like that, wouldn’t he?” You grumble, and then that tickle returns, making you clear your throat to scratch at it. 

Sans stares at you for a moment, “You okay?” He asks, sounding a little more concerned than you’re used to. 

You clear your throat again when the tickle persists and then scratch at your neck around the area, trying to relieve yourself of the odd feeling, “Yeah, think I’m coming down with a cold or something.”

Of course, that tickle is usually the first sign of one of your heats, and then a fever follows pretty quickly after, but you’re on suppressants! You shouldn’t be able to have a heat right now, not until you run out of your prescription, at least. Your doctor had refused to allow you to refill your prescription unless you had successful heat, noting that your body would become overstressed without it at least once every two years. And you weren’t due to run out for another six months. 

You scratch your neck a little more, baring your teeth in agitation when that solves nothing.

“You sure?” Sans leans forward and tilts his head upwards, as though he’s looking to catch a scent through the nose-shaped hole in his skull.

You’re still not really sure about how scents work for skeletons. 

Your frown deepens at him, but you turn your head to your shoulder and take a few cautionary sniffs. Nothing smells out of the ordinary, no oncoming scent of heat. Sans doesn’t seem to pick it up either, so leans back and shrugs. 

“It’s probably just a cold.” You tell him, and touch your forehead gently, “No fever, if it was a heat I’d be burning up by now.” 

Sans gives you a skeptical look, but before he can say anything the door opens and you both turn to see, quite shockingly, Gaster himself standing in the doorway looking as unimpressed with the place as you expected him to be. 

You are, however, greatly amused when you watch as he has to duck to get through the doorway. Serves him right for being so damned tall… and an asshole. You are momentarily distracted from the newcomer by the itch at your throat, so you take it as an opportunity to leave Chelsea to tend to Gaster while you retreat through the kitchen and into the employee’s lounge. It’s hardly bigger than a broom closet, but there’s some throat lozenges that you would be happy to make use of to get you through the end of your shift. 

As much as you would love to hide here, to avoid speaking to Gaster and taking in more of his delicious scent because no jerk deserves being drooled over… No matter how badly your body is begging you to jump the Alpha. God, you could drown in his scent and die happily. 

That thought makes you pause on your way through the kitchen. 

_Remember that this guy is just a backwards fuck-face who’d probably just use you as a pump-and-dump!_ You think furiously. You remind yourself of Gaster’s opinion of you that Sans so helpfully relayed. 

He thinks you’re a _freak_. 

With a huff, you square your shoulders and hold your head high as you take your place behind the bar. One quick glance tells you that Chelsea is busy tending to a group of customers that look like the type to tip well, but were likely to cause a scene if left untended for too long. Gaster, unfortunately, sits beside his shorter brother unserved and looking all the more offended for it. 

But really, he looks exactly like the type of snooty jerk who won’t tip jack-shit. The kind who thinks that a server’s wage is a scam, and while it , people still need to survive. He probably wouldn’t know the first thing about living from pay-check to pay-check, or having to call in favors when you miss rent or utility payments. 

Still, he is a customer, so with a deep breath, you put on your big-boy pants and idle over to the skeletal brothers, leaning on the bar and looking all the more disinterested to be speaking with Gaster even though up close you get a good mouthful of his delectable scent with each inhale. 

“What can I get you?” You ask, letting your eyes drag over the bar in boredom before they fall to the scarred face of Gaster. 

Those pinpoints of light in his eyes are locked onto your eyes and somehow hi upper lid lowers into what could only be described as ‘Bedroom’ eyes. You can feel your face heating at the look, but can’t pull your eyes away from his. 

“A dry martini.” He answers plainly and suddenly whatever magic was keeping your eyes locked to his is gone. A dry martini is _exactly_ what he would order, isn’t it? 

“Shaken or stirred?” You ask with a deadpan expression.

“Stirred.” Gaster answers, somehow looking more offended than he was previously. 

You raise a brow at that and give a little smirk, “Gin or vodka?” You ask with a hint of smugness. 

He glares at you for it and beside him Sans is holding back a chuckle, “Gin of course.” 

“Just making sure.” You raise your hands in mock surrender before turning around to hunt down the dry vermouth. 

You swear, every time someone asks for a dry martini Natalie has it moved. This time it’s up on the highest shelf and you… well you’re vertically challenged, to put it politely. Even with the step-stool, small as it is, you can’t reach up that far. 

“Son-of-a-bitch.” You mutter crossly, looking around for Chelsea, but she’s busy so she can’t reach it for you.

Just as you’re about to turn around and ask Sans to use his super cool magic to get the bottle down, a bodiless, boney hand appears and grabs the bottle for you. As it floats gently down to you, you notice the gaping hole in the palm of the hand and you know Sans can’t whip up a hand out of no where. You grab the bottle, eyes wide in shock, and whirl around just in time to see a faint violet light fade from Gaster’s scarred eye. 

“Thanks.” You say, noting his offense has turned into amusement. 

You wonder why Gaster’s magic is violet and Sans’s is blue, and what Papyrus’s color might be. But that’s a question for later, because you’re still busy working. So you get back to work quickly, the gin is well within your reach as are the glass and mixer and garnish, and within moments, you’re placing a fresh dry martini on a napkin in front of Gaster. 

And just as expected, Gaster hands over the exact cost of the drink. Not that you’re complaining, really, you two aren’t friends and you’ve made no attempt to be nice. Really, it’s just expected that he wouldn’t tip you. So, you don’t feel sore about it at all. Really. 

“Need another, Sans?” You turn to the shorter, much more pleasant, skeleton. 

“Nah, I’m good, toots.” He gives you a cheesy wink that you roll your eyes at, “I was actually just about to call it a night, so I’ll see you next time.” 

That makes you blink in confusion, usually Sans stayed until the bar closed. Why is he leaving you alone with jerky-mcjerk-face? Before you can ask why or demand that he stay, he’s gone. You _really_ hate his ability to do that. You barely manage to keep yourself from sighing in annoyance, turning your attention to Gaster who’s lightly sipping on his drink and just… staring at you. Staring at you in a way that makes your cheeks heat up, like he might just bend you over the bar and-

_Totally_ inappropriate! You’re at work, damnit! 

You clear your throat a bit awkwardly and avert your eyes, “So, what brings you to our humble establishment?” 

You only ask because there are no other customers for you to help. Chelsea is monopolizing the other customers pretty hard, which is a bit frustrating because maybe you would like to have some more tips? But it doesn’t really matter. You had a decent amount of tips from the night and the bar will only be open for a little while longer. 

And that itch in your throat is starting to come back again. 

“Sans invited me some time ago,” He explains plainly. “I had finished my research earlier than expected, thus my evening was made free.”

Such a simple explanation, you raise your brow at it as you return your eyes to him. He’s still looking at you like… like you’re prey. It actually makes your knees a little weak, but that’s not something you’re ever going to admit to. 

“Some time ago?” You ask, “So, what, you stay locked up in a lab, never going anywhere or doing anything until…?” You gesture to nothing in particular. You’re actually pretty curious, as it would explain why media rarely catches sight of the scientist these days. 

Gaster smirks at your question, like it’s funny, “I _do_ go out to enjoy a fine meal from time to time.” He assures you, “Usually I stay ‘locked up’, as you would put it, if an answer eludes me.” 

You scoff at that, “Yeah, I bet Sans and Papyrus have to drag you out of your dungeon to get you to eat anything.” 

“I work in a lab, not a dungeon.” Gaster corrects you, that look in his eye turning into annoyance. 

Well, that’s not necessarily better, but at least you don’t have to worry about making yourself look like a fool for having the hots for him. Not that you do, of course. 

“And I work in a castle,” You gesture grandly to the bar around you, “we all have our fantasies, I think it’s time you accepted yours.” 

“Trust me, my dear, I have accepted _all_ of my fantasies.” And that damn look is back, those lids lower again and the bright light of his eyes shining brightly under them. 

Dear god, did he actually call you his _dear?!_ You shift, not-so-subtly, when that stirs your desire for him and give yourself a mental lecture on why that _shouldn’t_. Quickly, you check the time, relieved to know that the bar will be closing soon and you can go home and masturbate in shame. 

“Well, good for you.” You reply, not really looking at Gaster anymore, as it would be too dangerous. 

Though, now that you think about it, usually this isn’t such a problem. You’re really good at keeping yourself in control around attractive alphas, especially at work. You scratch your throat idly as you wonder what could be the cause of your lowered inhibitions.

“Last call!” Chelsea shouts, breaking you out of your train of thought as those who weren’t at the bar rush to get in their last drink for the night. 

Gaster is momentarily forgotten as you scramble to help Chelsea make all the requested drinks, happy when most of them are just beers. He seems content enough to watch you work, still idly drinking his _dry martini_. And then it’s only a matter of time until everyone is slowly working their way out of the bar, you and Chelsea cleaning as they go, collecting payment for tabs, making sure everyone has a safe ride home. By the time the you’re finished, you notice that Gaster has left as well and you try not to let the disappointment sink in your stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” Chelsea asks, comforting hand on your shoulder as you pass. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, just thinking.” You idly scratch at your throat before cleaning up Gaster’s glass. 

You wonder why he didn’t he leave a note, and then immediately banish the thought. You don’t need anything from him! Or his sexy bedroom eyes… 

“Alright well, I’m gonna lock the front door. You need a ride home?” Chelsea tosses the question over her shoulder as she walks around the bar. 

“No.” You answer as you usually do, you live close enough that you feel comfortable walking. You begin to count the tills from the two registers, “Thanks, though. Send me a text when you get home.” 

“Sure thing!” Chelsea passes by you again on her way out the back, pausing to lean in close to you and taking a sniff of your shoulder. 

“What?” You ask with a frown, turning your head to sniff at your shoulders as well, “What is it?” 

“Thought I smelled something,” Chelsea murmurs as she gives you a once-over, “Must have been one of the customers. Anyway, have a good night, let me know when you’re home safe and sound!” She waves at you with a cheery smile before leaving. 

It takes you a few minutes longer than you’d like to make sure your end-of-shift duties are done, but at least you’re satisfied with the work. With a sigh, and a few more scratches to your throat, you grab your things from the breakroom and leave out the back door. As you’re locking up, you make a mental note to drop by the nearby pharmacy and pick up some cold medicine. You press the back of your hand to your forehead and grumble when you realize that you feel hotter than usual. Not quite a fever, you think, but getting there. You take in a deep breath and let it out with a surprised huff when you _taste_ Gaster’s scent.

You whirl around, eyes wide and brain halted between arousal and panic at an Alpha practically cornering you against a now locked door. This has been the theme of many of your fantasies, but somehow it’s a bit more frightening in reality. Especially since you definitely didn’t see him before you turned your back to the alleyway to lock the door. 

“Yes?” You ask, hand rummaging in your purse for your mace, it’s strong and from Chelsea who always gets the best products in protection. 

Gaster seems somewhat confused by your own confusion, and somewhat offended by your defensive stance, so you turn your nose up at him, waiting for whatever it was he was here for. 

“I am here to escort you home in San’s stead.” He says it so certainly, but that’s odd…

“What do you mean in San’s stead? He’s never walked us home before.” You tilt your head curiously, raising a brow at him.

Gaster seems to hesitate at your question, mirroring your tilted head, “Sans… doesn’t walk you or Chelsea home?” 

His bewilderment is genuine, his expression still surprise, but quickly turning towards confusion. Seeing his reaction calms you. He’s giving you space, letting you have your opportunity to run and making himself seem as unthreatening as possible. 

But that just means arousal is starting to take the lead and dammit, you just want to be clear-headed around this sexist-monster for _once!_

“No… Well there was one time where he chased off a couple guys, but he didn’t walk me home…” You trail off, glancing around the familiar alleyway as you think back to that night.

Sans had chased off some particularly _friendly_ gentlemen and had offered to walk you home, but you had refused. What stood out that night was the lingering scent of _Alpha_ that seemed to follow you home.

Gaster blinks at your revelation, his expression going flat and you can _smell_ his irritation. It makes you want to flatten yourself against the door and bow your head, bare your neck to him submission, but you push back the urge, hand moving out of your purse and to your side to appear less like a threat.

A sigh draws your attention back to Gaster who has come no closer to you, but is now rubbing his temples, “He specifically asked that I join him tonight so that I would take his place in ensuring your safe travel as he had other plans.” 

You can’t help but sputter out a sharp, nervous laugh, “Why does this feel like some sort of prank?”

“I assume you were unaware of this?” Gaster asks, his voice just as flat as his expression, he doesn’t seem to share in your amusement. 

“Yes.” You say, relaxing as your let any lingering anxiety melt away and reluctantly let yourself feel a little appreciative of having someone watch out for you. 

Still, this was also a prank against you, if it was a prank, and that meant Sans was owed some retaliation, which you were all too happy to give. 

Your clear your throat, mostly to fill the silence, but also because it’s itching again. 

“I admit, I agree with Sans that you should have an escort home, even if this was meant to be a prank.” Gaster answers to your cleared throat. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You challenge with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest and daring him to say some demeaning thing about you being a weak Omega.

He takes a few steps forward until he’s just an arm’s length away from you and leans down and holy hell you are getting a full appreciation for just how tall this monster is. It makes your mouth water, and his scent is swirling around in the air between you and you would swear it was all you could smell. 

You think you would live a very happy life if that scent was all you could smell. 

You swallow and his eyes dart down to your throat and back up to your eyes, “My dear, do you understand how delectable you smell right now?” 

You would swear his eyes had a subtle glow to them, but you blink and its gone, “I’m sorry, what?” You squeak as what Gaster has said finally clicks in your head. 

He leans further into your personal space, mouth just barely grazing your neck as you subconsciously tilt you head to give him better access, “I want to devour you.” 

His words send a metaphorical bolt of pleasure straight down to your cunt and you can’t help but whimper at them. Such a delicious promise from your Alpha. You take in a deep breath, trying to clear your head, but it’s hard when all you get is a mouthful of Gaster’s irresistible scent. God, it’s so hard to think when he’s so close to you. And then he’s leaning away and taking a step away from you and a small part of you feels just a tiny bit rejected, but you shove that feeling down and away. 

Awkwardly, you clear your throat and avoid looking directly at Gaster, your cheeks warming as he folds his hands behind his back, regarding you with a look that you wouldn’t be able to place if you’d been paying attention. 

“Right.” Again, you clear your throat, turning your head to take another sniff to see if you can catch your own scent. 

And again, there’s no sign of your heat starting despite feeling far too warm. As you do so, Gaster raises a brow, frowning to himself, but the frown is gone when you turn your eyes back to him. 

“Well, ah,” You start, unsure how to get moving to home, where it’s safe and you can hunker down until what’s more and more convincingly just a bug works itself out of your system, “Shall we?” 

You gesture with an awkward wave to one of the mouths of the alley, it leads to a well-lit sidewalk that you normally take to get home. Gaster’s head turns to regard the direction, unmoving until he seems satisfied with your choice.

“Very well. After you,” He gives a shallow bow, gesturing for you to lead the way.

You look down the alley and back to Gaster, raising a brow. Does he really expect you to go first? 

Gaster, at least, seems to understand your hesitance and offers, “Perhaps I shall go first and ensure that the way is safe?” He raises a brow, tone just bordering teasing and you glare at him for it.

“Yes, please, since Sans sent you on this little errand.” You gesture widely for Gaster to go ahead, to which he obeys with amusement shining in his eyes. 

Following after Gaster puts you more at ease, but it also means you’re following his scent trail, getting in a nice mouthful with every breath and dammit it’s making your brain swim. On one hand you feel wary of him, as you should! Something that you have to remind yourself of. On the other hand, he’s Sans’s older brother. That means that Sans wouldn’t send him to walk you home if he didn’t trust him, right?

“Wait, what about Chelsea?” You ask Gaster as you reach the sidewalk. 

It’s fairly empty, but cars are passing by often enough.

“Ah, I had made certain that she had safely gotten a cab ride home.” Gaster assures you. “I had assumed that the both of you would have been able to find your way home in a car safer than walking, but…” He gestures to the two of you, walking down the sidewalk. 

You blush and shrug, “Walking is healthy.” You mutter, “And I’m close enough that taking a car is more of a hassle, especially during rush hour.” 

“Ah, yes. It would seem then that walking would be the more logical option.” Gaster nods to himself as he walks beside you, a soft breeze making it so that his scent isn’t shoving itself down your throat anymore. 

That definitely helps you think a little clearer, but you still have a near desperate need to jump the monster beside you. He does want to devour you after all. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering what it is about this monster that’s gotten so far deep under your skin with so little interaction. You get why he’s after you, though. You’re an Omega, he’s an Alpha.

Clearly with a more traditional mindset, which is odd for monsters, but maybe not Boss monsters? You glance at him again.

Is he a Boss monster? Did it even make a difference?

Even still, usually an Alpha’s scent alone wasn’t enough to make you practically trip over your own damned feet! Maybe if you were in heat, you absentmindedly scratch at your neck again, clearing your throat to try and reach that itch. But that just doesn’t make any sense, there’s not enough evidence to prove that your heat has broken through your suppressants. 

Your thoughts are stopped in their tracks when you feel a hand gently wrap around yours, pulling it away from your neck and bringing you to a halt, “My dear, you are going to cut yourself scratching at your neck like that.” 

You blink, “Oh. Uhm, yeah.” 

You meet Gaster’s hooded eyes at find your heart stuttering, but his eyes drift down to your hand in his and brings it closer to his face for inspection. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, brushing a bony finger over your nails in a surprisingly intimate fashion. 

“You need to be more careful,” He tells you as he lets your hand go. 

You can’t help but stare at him for another moment before clearing your throat, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

His eyes narrow at you as though he feels your not taking him seriously, so he adds, “Especially since you’re entering your heat.” 

“I’m sorry, my what now?” You automatically respond, returning his glare, “I’m on suppressants.” 

“Clearly they have failed.” He growls, leaning closer to you and into your space, “Because it is taking quite the amount of restraint to keep from pushing you against the nearest surface and-“

“Okay, I get the point!” You shout, shoving your palm against his mouth, face red as a tomato. If he kept talking like that, there’s no way you’d be able to keep yourself from throwing your body at him.

You push a little, testing to see if he would back off, but he doesn’t. Instead he pushes forward while giving you a very unamused look, pushing until your back is against a building that you can’t remember the name of right now and his words of pushing you against the nearest surface are suddenly repeating themselves very loudly in your ears. You’re so surrounded by his warmth and his scent that you don’t even find the comedy in how he has to bend his neck so uncomfortably to keep his mouth pressed against your hand, but then he’s bending at the waist and pushing against your hand so that it’s the only thing in between your mouths. 

“Uhm…” You start uncertainly, trying to keep a clear head with Gaster’s scent fogging everything up with want and _need_. 

You barely notice your fingers parting on their own until something particularly wet slides between them, brushing languidly against your own lips. You gasp as heat pools between your legs, but Gaster takes advantage of your now parted lips and slips his tongue – because what else could that possibly be – into your mouth, pressing his own harder against your hand and forcing you to move your fingers out of the way. His own hands come up, one burrowing into your hair and the other grasping at your waist as you whimper into the kiss.

Gaster’s mouth is somewhere between firm and soft, odd since he’s supposedly a skeleton monster, but maybe that has something to do with the accident? You’re distracted almost immediately from your theorizing when Gaster’s tongue _moves_ , searching around your mouth until it somehow manages to wrap itself around your own, definitely by the way of magic, but god does he taste magnificent. It’s actually addicting as you relax and throw yourself wholeheartedly into the kiss, desperate for more because there’s a rising heat within you and Gaster has the only cure to cool you down. 

When an extra set of hands suddenly grope at your ass, you let out a startled squeak, pulling back out of the kiss without meaning to, but Gaster has already lifted you off your feet, moving from your mouth to devour your neck, which leaves you gasping and grasping at his shoulders, wanting more and more. Gaster, though, seems perfectly happy, lapping and nipping at your neck, drawing closer and close to a scent gland hidden beneath the skin, one that, if he isn’t careful, could create a bond between the two of you.

The idea of that sends a thrill down your spine, legs wrapping around Gaster’s waist to pull his hips flush against yours and he wastes no time in grinding his very hard and engorged cock perfectly against your wanting, dripping cunt. He drags a moan from your lips at the same time with a temptingly risky bite that you can’t be certain if it breaks the delicate skin or not, but for a brief, toe-curling moment, it sends such a shock of pleasure straight through you that you almost cum right then and there. 

“Where is your apartment?” Gaster growls against your neck, his cock grinding deliciously against your cunt, as through he isn’t afraid of anyone seeing them. 

It makes it difficult to think, to open your eyes and remember just where the hell you are, but you manage to stutter out your answer, “Two more blocks- ah, fuck- down. R-red _building!_ ” Your directions end in a squeal when he bites at your neck again.

Without any warning (which would have been really nice), you feel a pull at your very soul, locked away in your chest, and it pulls sharply down and somehow out along with your body. For a second, you can’t breathe, but you don’t even feel the need to. You can’t see either, or smell, there’s just _nothing_ , but it lasts only a second and then everything comes rushing back, with you clinging tightly to Gaster. All of your senses come rushing back, overwhelming as you gasp, vaguely realizing that your back was against the door. That also means that Gaster’s wondrously addicting scent.

“Gaster!” You can’t help but gasp, somehow clutching the skeleton monster even tighter than before. 

For his part, he licks a long stripe up your neck, gliding over you chin, muttering your name against your lips, “Room number?” He drawls, but it’s a bit difficult to answer him when his lips are covering your own, his teeth nipping and biting at your lips when you refuse to open them again. 

You wait until he pulls back, expecting him to give you perhaps an inch of space, but he buries his face right back into your neck and bites you for your insolence, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. Your toes curl, heels digging into Gaster’s back, spitefully digging one into his spine, making him growl against your neck. 

“Room. Number.” Gaster snarls, tangling a hand in your hair to pull in a way that hurts in an entirely attractive way you weren’t expecting, pulling until you tilt your head back, but keeps the tension there to keep your neck exposed. 

You moan wantonly, trying to think clearly to remember, but damn is it so difficult when Gaster’s hips won’t stop moving, his cock grinding non-stop against your aching, dripping cunt. You’re fairly certain he’s doing it on purpose, making it difficult for you to think just so he can leave more marks on your neck in some form of punishment. 

Just as you’re about to answer him, his teeth graze across the sensitive skin hiding your bonding gland and your mouth opens in a wordless scream, fingers and heels digging into Gaster’s back. You’ve had partners tease at a mating bite before, but none of them have had quite the arousing affect that Gaster’s has. You whimper and whine when his teeth close down around it, encompassing it in a sort of open-mouth kiss, tongue pressing against the skin there to taste in a way that drives you mad, writhing against him, and he pins you to the wall with his hips in a way that practically grinds his dick into you and suddenly your cuming, limbs wrapped around him tightly.

“Delicious,” Gaster murmurs into your ear as you gasp for breath, trying to come back down from your high long enough to remember where you live. 

You’re feeling a very intense need to be filled, and you’re damn sure that Gaster is packing exactly what you’re looking for. 

“42.” You say in between gasps of breath, hoping that Gaster will at least give you a moment to catch your breath before – suddenly that lurching feeling comes again and your back is against your couch, Gaster heavy between your legs, “Oh.” 

You blink up at Gaster with a clearer head now that you’ve been marginally satisfied, and the skeleton monster looks a touch more smug than he should. You glare at him. 

“Okay, time out?” You wait as Gaster’s expression goes flat and unamused, “It’s super fucking creepy that you can do this, especially with… you know,” You gesture to your couch and then to the coffee table that’s close enough that you could roll on top on it. 

Gaster follows your gesture with his eyes, looking unimpressed, “It’s much simpler than you would think, my dear.” 

You scoff at that, ignoring the steadily building want that starting to slither across your skin, “Yeah, super simple, definitely not stalking.” 

Gaster growls above you and you can’t help but give a sharp inhale at the sound, “I assure you that I would never stoop so low,” He leans down and you imagine that if he had a nose, it would be brushing against yours, “That and I would never need to,” His tongue darts out to wet a line from your collar bone up to your lips, making you whimper and clutch at the lapels of his coat, “I’d go into a deeper explanation of the how’s and why’s, but I’m afraid I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.” He rolls his hips against yours, reminding you of his rather hard cock. 

You bite and lip and moan, determined to not give in so easily to Gaster’s desires, no matter how much they match with yours. You push at Gaster’s chest until he backs away a little, stilling in his movements as he gives you a genuinely concerned look. 

“We should probably lay out some ground rules?” You suggest a little breathily, “Like no bonding?” You suggest a little firmer with a raised brow.

Gaster seems offended by the suggestion, “Are you absolutely certain?” 

You have just enough sense left to balk at him, “Of course! I’m not gonna be stuck with some one-night-stand with a stick up his ass.” You wrinkle your nose as if disgusted by the idea, but you can’t lie that a part of you is actually excited at the prospect of being mated to such a promising Alpha.

Strong, smart, good looking and smelling wonderful? An absolute catch to your Omega senses. What a wonderful provider he might make. 

But you banish those thoughts quickly and remind yourself that you barely even know the skeleton monster. 

Gaster frowns at you, “I resent that last comment. Fine, what other demands do you have.” He’s glaring at you now, but at least he’s listening, that gives you hope that he’ll follow your rules. 

“If you’re gonna bite me, at least do it somewhere I can hide it. Also, I like cuddles after sex so if you could stay for the night or maybe just an hour that would be appreciated.” You tell him quickly, you can feel a heat growing, threatening to burn you from the inside out if you don’t get that delicious cock shoved inside of you within the next few minutes. 

“Noted,” Gaster dives back down, nipping and lapping at your neck, nips turning into sharp bites as he reaches your collar bones, leaving you gasping and wanting more, “Anything else? He asks, his voice rough with need. 

“Just fuck me already.” You tell him, bucking your hips against his and delighting in the snarl that’s wrapped around your shoulder. 

All at once, far too many hands to count are grasping at your shirt, pulling and practically ripping it until you move to help them tear the damn thing off – so impatient – while Gaster’s own hands have already undone the buttons and zipper of your jeans, finger bones grasping the waist of them and pulling them off in one smooth motion, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you, laid almost bare before him and it makes you blush heavily. 

You let him watch as you, feeling rather bold, lean up and reach behind yourself to unclip your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders slowly and throw it to the side while keeping your eyes on him. You lie back down, making yourself comfortable, and raise an expectant brow at him. If he wants your damn panties off, either he’s going to have to move and get them off himself. 

Gaster does neither, instead he throws off his own coat, something that you can appreciate, but he wastes no more time removing his own clothing before his mouth is on yours, his long body pressed against yours, fitting neatly in between your legs. His boney hands roam your body freely, leaving pleasant trails of heat in their wake so you try to return the favor, starting at the hem of his shirt, curling your fingers under it to find not flesh, but an actual fucking skeleton that makes you release a startled noise and pull back. But Gaster follows your mouth, taking advantage of your brief distraction to slip his tongue in between your teeth and fill your mouth. You make a noise of protest, not that it’s genuine, but arch your back to press your chest into his when his hands inevitably reach your breasts, massaging and pinching your nipples until their pert. It’s not long before he’s moving from your lips, kissing and nipping at the soft flesh of your neck, biting at your collarbone and sucking at the skin to leave a mark there, moving further down to take one of your rock hard nipples into his mouth, lapping at the sensitive bud and threatening to bite it with his teeth. You cry out in pleasure when he actually does bite, but gently, your own hands squeezing a pair of his ribs that has him quickly releasing nipple and burying his face in the valley between your breasts with a heavy growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands are at your hips then, surprising you by pulling them up to help him grind deliciously against you, leaving you panting breathlessly. He growls again as he moves one of his hands to grasp at yours, managing to pull one from his rib and trap it against the arm rest. He bites at your breasts harshly then, but the little stings of pleasure have you gasping and scrapping your nails against his rib. The way he stills, a snarl bursting from his lips, his own fingers bruising into your hip, makes you wonder if that was perhaps the best course of action. 

But he’s not moving, simply panting into your breast while keeping that trapped cock of his pressed perfectly against your clitoris. You grit your teeth and whine at the loss of friction, trying to move your hips to recreate that, but Gaster’s grip on you is frustratingly tight. You pant at him, squeezing him with your thighs in a sort of warning before wrapping your legs fully around his waist and pulling him closer. 

He growls low in his throat, teeth closing around your breast against and breaking into the skin. 

“Ah! Fuck, ow!” You reflexively let go of his rib, but your legs tighten around him. You scratch at his skull, moving around it until you can jam your thumb into his mouth, “That hurts!” 

He lets you go, licking kindly at the little bits of blood popping up from the fresh bite. He takes extra care to take your thumb into his mouth as well, suckling at it with a glare tossed your way. He nips unkindly at your thumb at your hand is dragged away by one of his extra hands, appearing from no where to lock yours at the armrest with the other one. 

“Then don’t squeeze my ribs!” He barks back at you, taking your chin in his hand to keep your still while he gives you another bruising kiss, “Unless you want this to be over without a proper fucking.” 

You really can’t convince yourself to be angry at him, not when he’s resumed his grinding. Besides, you keep that little tidbit about how sensitive those bones are locked away for another time. You wonder idly just how sensitive the rest of him is, how it compares and find yourself desperate to see how he would handle being bitten himself. 

You find a perfect opportunity to bite at his lips, as close as you could get at the moment, and are immediately satisfied when he groans and grinds particularly hard against you. But then he’s pulling out of your reach again, drifting down your body with a variety of kisses and licks and bites that have you writhing underneath him. He’s allowed that little magic hand of his to keep both of yours above your head to have his hands be free to resume their curious roaming down the length of your body with him. 

As he takes his time biting and sucking at your hips to leave plenty of marks there, making you mewl and whine twisting your hips to get him to go a little lower, another set of hands appear at your breasts, mimicking the same treatment Gaster had given them earlier. 

“Gaster!” You shout as those hand pinch at your nipples at the same time that Gaster leaves a particularly nasty bruise at your hip, but oh does it feel so good!

“Ah, are you enjoying yourself?” He asks into your stomach, just above your panties. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight and you nod vigorously. You nearly die at the heated look he gives you, sliding slowly down between your thighs to take your panties in between his teeth and you can’t help but gape at the sight. You barely aware that you’re begging him underneath your breath, straining against the hands keeping you trapped against the couch. He drags your panties down slowly, torturing you with the anticipation and grasping onto your legs when you start kicking them impatiently. He bites at the flesh on your thighs, leaving lovely red marks that will probably be tender in the morning. You can only bite your lip in response, hands clenching in anticipation as he edges closer to the apex of your thighs. He takes his time and you belatedly realize that you’re making a high-pitched whine, struggling to cant your hips up, desperate for him to get on with it already.

You’re desperate, wanting, and aroused to the point that it’s just on the other side of painful as your empty cunt clenches on nothing. You aren’t in the state of mind to wonder at your reaction, it’s far too hot to contemplate the matter and you’re convinced that the only thing that’s going to cool you down is Gaster. 

And Gaster is still just bare inches away from your dripping lips, you can feel every breath he releases and it makes your legs twitch.

“Do you want this?” He asks you, and it takes a second to focus on him over the growing need that’s beginning to flood your thoughts.

Gaster is looking at you with a hungry gaze that nearly makes you agree immediately, but there’s something in the way he asks, something serious underlying the desire and you take a moment, blinking through your own heated arousal.

“Yes.” You whisper over a moment of deliberation. 

And then you’re throwing your head back against the arm of the chair as Gaster uses the flat of his tongue to give you a rough lick that spreads your labia, teasing at pressing into your wet heat before roving upwards to press heavily against your clitoris. It’s an appetizer for the decadent meal to come, according to Gaster who practically moans at your taste. 

“Absolutely delicious,” He mutters more to himself than you.

Just before you get the idea to buck your hips to shove your vagina into his face, he’s smartly moved his hands to your waist, another pair of disembodied hands holding down your legs. 

“Gaster!” You shout angrily, or mean to, but it comes out in another whine as you struggle to twist and turn in his grip, but he’s too strong, and god if that doesn’t turn you on! 

Gaster, for his part, obliges your minor tantrum and returns his tongue to its rightful place. You sigh in relief and pleasure, but soon grow impatient with his slow and mostly shallow licks. However, no matter how much you growl and spit at him, he keeps his slow and determined pace, building you up gradually, as though he has all day, and you sure fucking hope that’s not his plan. Those hands at your breasts resume their massaging, occasionally stopping to pinch your nipple, giving you sharp little bursts of pleasure that help push you closer and closer to the edge. 

And keeps you there.

At the edge, and there’s no fucking glory here, just an edging bastard that has you moaning and mewling in his hands. 

“Fucking- Gast- Bitch!” You curse and Gaster stops and you wail. 

“I’m sorry, did you need something?” Gaster snarks at you, smirking at your snarl and holding you firmly as you struggle to thrash in his grip. 

He looks down at your soaking cunt, covered with his own saliva and your vaginal juices. He moves a hand from your waist to ghost the tips of those bone fingers around your engorged clitoris and over your sensitive labia. Your breath hitches and you clench your teeth, biting down a growl of frustration. 

“Perhaps,” Gaster starts, fingers edging closer and closer to your aching cunt, “This-“ He slides in a finger relatively easily and you let out a low moan, finally being filled, “This is what you want…?” He asks even as he starts another torturously slow pace of thrusting his finger in and out and back in over and over as slowly as he can manage. 

“Gaster, please!” Your cry of mercy is cut short when he presses his finger against that lovely bundle of nerves that steals your breath. 

You’re given maybe a few seconds to catch your breath and then he’s pushing in a second finger, thrusting a little faster now, but making sure to hit that spectacular spot with every thrust. Your voice gets higher and higher, hips moving in time with Gaster’s fingers and you’re pretty sure it’s only because he’s allowing it. Again he works you right up to that edge, stopping just before you can relish in a well-earned orgasm. 

You snarl at him, thrashing against the hands restraining you again because it isn’t fair! Your snarl turns into a begging whine that simmers into a whimper as your racing heart calms. You blink away a few odd tears and glare at Gaster, who seems more amused by your misery than he ought to. 

Gaster somehow holds your gaze as he slips a third finger into you as you gape at him, begging him with your eyes to just let you finish _once_. 

The bastard doesn’t oblige you.

Instead he lets the continually building heat consume you and leave you gasping and breathless, demanding more until you’re left crying because the skeleton monster has dragged you to the edge six times now! 

“Gaster, please! Please please please please please pleaseplease justletmecum,” You ramble mindlessly, your body shaking with need, “I _need_ it!” You keen, only for Gaster to laugh at you, a deep and low rumble that makes you sob. 

“Hush,” He coos as he moves up your body to cover your naked form with his own, pressing every inch of his body against yours, “I have you, Darling.” 

He nuzzles into your neck, licking sweetly at it while you whine, trying desperately to grind your clitoris against his cock, but he lifts his hips away from yours teasingly. You turn your head to bite at him, managing to nip at his lips when he got just a little too close. Gaster huffs at you and bites your jaw with a mild growl, more of a warning than anything, but it still makes you let out a moan that turns into another cry because it _hurts_. This utter need that Gaster is refusing to fill even though he started it. 

Gaster hushes you again, pressing his mouth into your hair and takes a deep breath, before moving to just under your ear, breathing deeply there too in a way that makes you shudder in want. He does this again and again, against your neck and breasts, breathing out a huff each time and giving you a few licks here and there. He purposefully ignores your quivering lips between your thighs, licking around them instead and nipping playfully at your heels. He’s slow to repeat the process back up, spending longer at your stomach, and laving at a mark he left there earlier. You watch him, still panting, still shaking, tears in your eyes and aching all over. You’re practically drowning in his scent now, and are perfectly ready to die in it. 

“Tell me what you want, Dear.” Gaster tells you once he’s satisfied that you’re covered in his scent and he in yours. 

“You,” You tell him with a gasp, “I want you inside of me!” You say when he seems to wait for a better answer.

You actively cry out in relief when Gaster gives you a slow nod, and reaches down slowly unbutton his slacks, watching your expression carefully as you stare at his hand, drooling at the thought of his cock. You’re straining against the hands holding you down to get a proper look as Gaster grips his zipper with two fingers and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls it down.

You blink. Staring at a newly revealed hipbone peaking out from the opening of Gaster’s pants. Your eyes flicker back up to his, watching as amusement dances in his. You could have _sworn_ you felt a dick, a hard, ready to go dick grinding against you not five minutes earlier. 

You can practically feel Gaster’s smirk as you watch it stretch slowly across his face, it distracts you from his cock as it manifests from his hips and into his waiting hand. In fact, you’re so busy glaring at Gaster, insult forming in your mouth despite the haze of desperation and lust, that you don’t notice the _purple, glowing monstrosity_ until he shifts his hips forward to rub the head of it against your dripping entrance. 

You gasp in shock, eyes wide as they fall down onto it and- _holy shit it’s huge._

“I need that thing inside me right. Fucking. Now.” You snarl at him and no sooner than the words have left your lips than Gaster was pushing into you, hands grasping tightly at your hips to keep you in place. 

You throw your head back and groan in ecstasy at the feeling of being stretched open and filled, finally having what your body was craving. Gaster groans above you as well, one hand bracing against the arm of the couch while the other stays at your hip, fingers digging into your skin and bruising it there. He stills for a moment, long enough to have you whining when he isn’t filling you to the brim already, before he thrusts his hips forward roughly, startling a shout out of you and then his teeth are around your neck just as your legs are clamped around his waist, keeping him buried deeply inside of you and you swear you can feel the bones of his hips against yours. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ You mutter, fingernails digging into your palms and toes curling, “Fucking _yesss_.” You hiss into the side of his skull. 

Gaster growls against your throat, teeth slowly sinking into your flesh. The pain burns into a pleasure that makes you clutch uselessly at his shoulders, raising a hand to scrape your nails against his scalp. You don’t even think before you’re throwing your own head forward to bite at his collar bone through his shirt. That earns you a snarl and finally some movement from Gaster as his hips withdraw and then snap against yours, rubbing his engorged cock against the walls of your soaking vagina. 

You think that, by the way he’d been so slow from the start, Gaster would take his time with you, but he proves you wrong when he starts off with a punishing pace that leaves you breathless and practically wailing with pleasure, holding on to Gaster for dear life as he fucks you into your own couch. He changes the angle of his hips rather suddenly and hits that absolutely magical spot that has you releasing his collar bone and throwing your head back with a scream. 

Thankfully, this time Gaster doesn’t stop before your clenching around him and coming with his name on your lips. Gaster groans against your neck, his thrusts faltering for a moment before picking back up, shallow and faster, removing his teeth from your neck to pant in your ear. His hands both grip your waist now, tips of his bony fingers piercing your skin. You squeal in delight when you can feel his knot pounding against your cunt, demanding entrance. 

“ _Pleasepleaseplease!_ ” You beg him, gasping when his knot finally pushes through, locking the two of you together at the hip as he releases his cum into you. 

The two of you lay there, panting and damp with sweat, taking the time to catch your breath before shifting around into a more comfortable position to wait out Gaster’s knot. 

You wind up lying on top of Gaster, nuzzling into his chest with a happy purr as he tiredly cards his fingers through your hair. You’re more than happy to lay there all night, cuddling into Gaster’s comforting warmth and delicious scent. 

At some point you drift off into a light sleep, woken only when Gaster shifts your hips and his, pulling his now soft cock out of you as gently as he can manage. You still whine in discomfort and bite at Gaster’s ribs through his shirt with a small growl. Gaster chuckles beneath you.

“I believe it would only be more uncomfortable for me to remain inside you for any longer, my dear.” He tells with amusement in his voice. 

You huff at him, tightening your arms around him in an attempt to squeeze the air out of his lungs, “Less talking, more sleeping.” 

It doesn’t really occur to you at the moment that you, perhaps, shouldn’t be falling asleep with a practical stranger in your home, but you feel too well used and sated to care at the moment. It helps that you have a nose buried in an Alpha’s chest, his scent putting your Omega senses at ease. 

When you wake next, it’s to bony fingers massaging your scalp, scratching your back and running up and down your legs. You purr, your grip around your pillow tightening as you curl your legs under yourself, spreading your knees as a quickly growing heat builds between your legs. You can’t help but whine, burying your nose in your pillow which is drenched in the scent of _Alpha_. It only makes your want turn into a need, so you push a hand down between your legs to satisfy your aching cunt’s needs. Your fingers are quick to find your clit, circling around it teasingly at first to give yourself a taste of what to expect, before they roam further down, already soaked in your slick to rub smoothly into your vagina. You groan, only mildly satisfied by your fingers slow pumping, the drag of your palm against your clit, it’s just not enough! You need your Alpha, dammit! Where is he? 

Luckily enough, one of those hands still massaging your legs takes an interest in your activities between your legs and begins dragging against your skin towards your dripping cunt. Unluckily, instead of aiding in satisfying your need for release, it grabs your hand and pulls it away. You snarl, in response, but before you get the chance to fight back, the other hands act immediately; they grab onto your other hand, the back of your neck and your legs to keep you in place, pressed against the bed. Hot, angry rage burns inside you at being denied your precious release and being restrained so. You thrash against the hold of the hands with a shout, but they easily overpower you and keep you relatively still, but the sound of your door opening has you freezing in your spot. 

“My, my… Look who’s awake.” Your Alpha’s voice purrs from the doorway and you whine instinctively, raising your ass into the air to present yourself to him.

You hear him take in a startled breath and then his footsteps padding quietly over to you. You feel the bed dip behind you as he crawls onto it. For a moment, there’s no movement, just the sound of Gaster breathing slowly behind you. 

“ _Alpha_ …” You whine, wiggling your ass a little to entice him to come closer to you.

God, you can smell him and it makes your mouth water. Just as you’re about to start up another whine, you feel his hands, so hot that they practically burn your skin, plant themselves on the globe of your ass and give them a firm squeeze before he’s sliding those hands up your back, following in between the burning trails with his tongue. His hands break off their path to wrap around your waist, while his tongue continues up to your neck, replacing the hand there with his mouth. You bury your head into your pillow, allowing him more access, and press your ass against him, pleased when there is a distinct hardness there, wedging itself in between your cheeks.

“Do you want to be stuffed by _Daddy?_ ” He grows against your neck and you moan wantonly in response. 

“Fuck, please! Please, Daddy, fill me up!” You beg, grinding your ass against him.

He growls and bites your neck, making you gasp, “If will if you _behave._ ” He snarls. 

You whine plaintively and still your movements and your reward is Gaster sucking at the bite he just gave you, “I need you, Alpha.” Gaster nips your shoulder and you quickly correct yourself, “ _Daddy~_ ”. 

“Good girl.” He purrs, letting his hands wander from your waist, one venturing up to close around your neck, not enough to make it difficult to breathe, but enough so that you know its there, and the other slips between your legs to rub at the folds of your vagina, teasing you. 

He leans back, pulling you up with him to sit on his lap and your eyes fall to your pillow where Gaster’s shirt is acting like a pillow-case for it. Oh, well that explains the smell. You can feel your face heating at that, somehow it’s more embarrassing than your current predicament. 

Gaster notices and chuckles, “Are you as addicted to my scent as I am to yours, Darling?” He nuzzles your neck, licking a wet stripe up the side and biting gently at your bonding gland and blowing out a harsh breath there. 

It makes your skin shiver in delight, your Omega calling out to you to beg for him to bite down and claim you then and there., “Please…” You beg breathlessly. 

He chuckles again, though it’s a dark taste against your skin, “Ah, ah, Darling,” He presses a sweet kiss against the skin there that makes you whine, “You’ll thank me when you heat is over.” 

You bare your teeth and snarl at him, but that sound is cut off with a gasp when his fingers slip deep inside of your cunt, slowly pumping in and out two at a time. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, unable to keep yourself from moving your hips, trying to make him go faster, but his hold on your neck tightens.

“Behave.” He growls and relaxes his hold on your neck, but keeps his hand there, “Or will I need to punish you?” 

Such a tantalizing promise, but even with a heat fogging most of your higher thought processes, you can’t help but want to rebel. Without saying a word, you turn your head to bite at his neck. The bend is a bit awkward, but you make it worth it by biting down hard enough that Gaster stiffens between your teeth. A low growl starts in his throat as his fingers stop their movement. They’re shoved as far as he can manage them inside of you and warm, but fuck now you’re regretting biting him. He stays still long enough that you let go of his neck and whine, turning your head away, trying to submit in such an awkward position. He huffs at you, taking his teeth and running them up your neck to bite your jaw until he’s drawing blood.

You wince and cry out, trying to move your face out of the reach of his teeth, but then his fingers are torn from your cunt and grasping your chin to force you to face him. His fingers dig into your cheeks almost painfully as you meet his glaring, violet glowing eyes. They make you nervous, but you can’t tell if it’s out of fear or arousal. 

“Alpha…” You breathe carefully, trying to win over his favor again. 

His eyes narrow at you and his grip softens, “Are you going to behave for Daddy, my little Omega?” 

You nod enthusiastically, pleased when your Alpha smiles at you. Gaster makes a rumbling sound in the back of his throat and nuzzles your cheek. 

“Then bend back over.” He murmurs into your ear.

You nearly throw yourself back onto the bed, but you make sure to arch your back in a pleasing way, making sure that your ass stays put against his cock. You stretch your arms out in front of you, grabbing the headboard and looking back at Gaster over your shoulder. He’s watching you with hungry eyes that send a shiver up your spine. For a moment you forget about your need to be filled by that thick, monster of a cock that he holds in his hand. It almost seems like a threat, the way he’s holding it, but that only makes you more excited about it. Your eyes roam over his mostly skeletal figure, mesmerized by how the bones seem to melt into one another, yet still keep the skeletal silhouette. You can’t quite see straight through his rib cage, the bones melting in a sort of wall behind the ribs in most places, dripping to his hip bones as a sort of mockery of an abdomen. 

When your eyes raise back up to his, he seems to be waiting for a reaction from you, almost nervously. You figure he might be a bit apprehensive of your opinion on his appearance, but all you can really see is how much of a perfect Alpha he is for you. 

“Daddy Alpha…?” You plea quietly, pride swelling in your chest when Gaster’s nervous look is wiped away by that hungry look that makes your heart race. 

A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans back over you, covering your back with his chest. He lets his weight sit on you for a moment as he brings a hand up over yours on the headboard, his teeth coming to close around your neck again, pulling an excited gasp from your lips. You feel the head of his cock brushing against you and you bite your lip in anticipation. You whine when he doesn’t move after a moment of waiting with baited breath, and that seems to stir him into moving, but not nearly as fast as you want him to. No, he takes his time pushing his engorged cock into you, letting you feel the slow stretch of it filling you. Your grip on the headboard tightens as you push yourself back onto his cock, impatience driving your hips back until Gaster is fully seated inside of you. You gasp at the fullness of it as Gaster grunts at your tightness. His free hand is quick to wrap around your waist, trapping your hips together and keep you from moving. For a moment you’re happy enough to wait for Gaster, being filled to the brim with your Alpha’s cock makes you happy. But then impatience has you wiggling and grasping at Gaster’s arm around your waist. It’s a futile effort for you, even trying to pry his fingers off your hip, your other hand is grasped tightly in Gaster’s, offering no help at all. 

You growl at him, nails scratching at his bony fingers in an effort to get him to let go. He chuckles at your efforts and you feel a third hand pulls yours from his at your hip and replacing it back on the headboard. 

“Gaster!” You yell in frustration. 

“Easy, my dear,” He coos at you, nuzzling your neck and placing a soft kiss at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, “I have you.” 

You snap your teeth at him, and he lets out an amused huff, but begins to move regardless. It’s a slow pace, but Gaster’s cock is rubbing against the walls of your vagina in all the right ways. You honestly expect him to pick up the pace after maybe the first thrust or two, but Gaster is proving you wrong, keeping his thrusts slow and steady. There’s something rather sweet in Gaster taking his time, holding you closely to him. It warms you in ways you never expected and brings tears to your eyes. 

“A-Alpha…!” You gasp when Gaster adjusts his angle so that the slow drag of his cock rubs against that sweet spot that has your legs shaking in desire. 

It’s not enough, you need more! But, still! Every stroke of his cock is too delicious to risk losing. It makes the tears in your eyes flow freely and you’re not entirely sure why. Perhaps it the sweet way Gaster cradles you in his arms, or his sweet murmurs in your ears, or even just the slow glide of his cock. Something about it makes you feel wanted in a way you can’t really say you’ve felt before. Almost whole.

“I have you, Dear,” Gaster repeats sweetly into your ear, bringing you up to the edge of another satisfying relief when you feel the base of his knot, “And you are _mine._ ” He growls and the sound makes you clench around his cock with a whine. 

“Yours! I’m yours!” You agree when he snaps his hips against yours once, then twice, and finally a third time before you’re crying out in ecstasy.

Gaster groans, burying his face into your neck and thrusting hard enough into you, his knot pushing through to lock the two of you together again, that you lose your grip on the headboard and fall onto the bed face first as Gaster empties himself into you. You can’t really say that you mind, in fact, you’re pretty damn happy to have your Alpha’s cum filling you up. Though, Gaster does adjust the two of you to lay on your sides so that you can breathe properly, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly against his chest as he curls his legs up against yours. You both take a few moments to catch your breath and you grab onto Gaster’s hand around your waist to intertwine your fingers. You hum happily when he gives your hand a gentle squeeze and curls more around you. 

It’s a sometime far too early in the morning, your sure, when you wake up two days later to your phone ringing. You groan loudly, unwilling to move from the warm comfort of your bed. Luckily, you don’t have to, as Gaster leans over your prone form with a tired sigh to answer your phone for you. You giggle softly, turning around to cling to Gaster for extra warmth while he talks softly on your phone. 

“I’m sorry, but she’s indisposed at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?” His arm comes to rest on your hip as you stretch against him. 

You feel as though your entire body is sore, like every muscle was used and abused. If you weren’t practically burrowed in blankets, you might take a look at all the bruises, bite marks and scratches Gaster gave you in the haze of your heat. Instead you let your eyes roam over the tiny marks on his body that you left behind, very few of them have a soft purple blush to them that makes you want to kiss each and every mark you left. Just as you open your mouth to possibly bite one of those marks, Gaster pinches your hip. 

You snap your mouth shut with a click, giving Gaster an innocent smile that he glares at.

“Of course, I’ll be sure to tell her. Thank you, good-bye.” Gaster ends the call and leans over you to place your phone back on your night stand.

You expect him to roll back over, if only so you can use him as a pillow, but instead you squeak in surprise when Gaster rolls over on top of you, crushing you with his weight as he seems content to simply lay on you. 

“Gaster!” You wheeze, “Air!” 

“Yes, you do need something as mundane as air, don’t you?” Gaster sighs heavily as though needing air to live is far, far beneath him and you are simply requesting too much of him.

He does, though, move so that he isn’t completely squeezing the air out of your lungs. You take in a deep breath and let it out dramatically as you wiggle beneath Gaster, trying to get comfortable. 

“Dear, if you keep moving like that…” He trails off to grind his bare hip against your cunt and the pain far outweighs the pleasure it causes.

“Ow, ow, ow! Okay, but maybe later.” You push at him to take the pressure away and he obliges. 

“Too sore?” He asks, clearly amused. 

“Shut up,” You huff at him, puffing your cheeks as you pout, “Anyway, who was that on the phone?” You ask before he can tease you further. 

“Ah, I believe that was your… Friend? Chelsea?” You nod to confirm his guess, “She wanted to know why you weren’t answering your phone.” 

You immediately feel your face heat up, probably as red as a tomato right now. Oh, oh no, you’re never going to hear the end of this. 

“Son of a bitch!” You whine and press your face into Gaster’s neck as he laughs at you, “Oh! Shit, what day is it?” You start wiggling again, trying to reach your phone, but Gaster grabs your hand to press it into the pillow next to your head. 

“Calm down, you have the day off. I talked with your boss earlier.” Gaster explains.

“Excuse me, you _what?!_ ” You blanch at him, panic rising, “What the hell did you tell her?” You demand. 

“That you were sick and wouldn’t make it in. Technically speaking, you are so it wasn’t a lie. You should call your doctor.” Gaster advises, completely glancing over the fact that he spoke with your boss and how that was probably a problem. 

“I’m sorry, you told her you were sick and she just _believed_ you??” You struggle a bit to get out of his grasp and Gaster rolls his eyes at your attempts. 

As though to assuage your sudden anger, he flips the two of you over and pulls himself up against the headboard, securing you comfortably in his lap. You shiver when the blanket falls to your waist, leaving you vulnerable to the chill of the room. But you’re a little reluctant to pull the blanket back up when you see how Gaster’s gaze roves over your naked body, his hands warm on your thighs. 

“Darling, I texted her.” He tells you, his gaze sweeping over to your phone which is being held by one of those bodyless hands of his. 

You frown and take the phone, opening your messages to see that Gaster indeed texted your boss, pretending to be you and calling in sick. Natalie offered to call Chelsea in your stead and it seems Gaster accepted… No wonder Chelsea called, she was probably pissed that you hadn’t asked her yourself. Aaaannd now she probably thought you bitched out to have sex… god dammit. 

“Okay, how did you get my password?” You asked, handing the phone back and give him a suspicious look.

Gaster smirks back at you, “You gave it to me and demanded that I order pizza instead of cooking you something to eat so that you could… Ah, how did you phrase it again? Devour my ‘monstrously’ huge cock?” He raises a brow at you, though he’s clearly amused when your face heats up. 

You groan and cover your face with your hands, desperately trying to hide your embarrassment, “Yeah that makes sense.” You mumble. 

Gaster taps your thigh to grab your attention, “You really should call your doctor. I believe you mentioned that you were on suppressants?” You peak in between your fingers to see Gaster looking mildly concerned. 

Your frown reappears as you give him a slow nod, “Yeah…” You sigh, glancing at your phone out of the corner of your eye. 

It’s still a bit too early to call your doctor, but you make a mental note to call her later in the day, when she would actually be working. 

Gaster pulls your attention back to him with a kiss to your knuckles. It surprises you enough to blurt out something entirely embarrassing and stupid.

“What are we?” Gaster blinks at you, and you blink back at him and you swear your face should be melting off by now.

Real fucking smooth. 

“I do believe that I’ve mentioned several times that you are mine, if you’ll recall?” He raises a brow at you. 

You gape at him, “You mean you were serious?!” 

“Of course.” He looks mildly offended by your disbelief and a part of you doesn’t blame him, but also people say a lot of flowery shit in the middle of sex. 

You sputter for a moment, “E-excuse me, you haven’t even taken me out to dinner or to a movie yet!” You try to pull away from him, but Gaster is stubborn and quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him and pressing his face against your breasts. 

“If you wish to be courted so, then please allow me to do so.” He purrs before mouthing at your breast, looking to capture your nipple between his teeth and laving his tongue around it. 

You throw your head back with a gasp, throwing your arms around his shoulders to keep yourself from falling onto your back when he leans forward, making you lean backwards. You grit your teeth and wince when he bites into the flesh of your breast. 

“Hey!” You bark at him, but he simply licks at the drops of fresh blood. You bite your lip at the sight, feeling hot arousal course through you, but damn you might be too sore for another round any time soon. 

“Alright, mister, I’m serious. Knock it off, I’m too sore and you still haven’t taken me out on a date yet.” You flick his forehead, mindful of the crack on the left side. 

Gaster nips at your finger, “Very well,” He leans back against the headboard so that you’re both comfortable again, “As soon as you call your doctor.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Also, does anyone else get annoyed when writers use (y/n) and other variations for a story written in the second perspective? I can't stand that, so I didn't write it like that. Let me know what you think.


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